When I was a young pup running cross country in high school, there was a race we'd travel to every year in Liberty, Kansas. We ran at the college there, I think. We'd take a bus there, stay overnight in some seedy hotel, then run the next day, then drive back home. It was a blast. We looked forward to it every year - and each year was full of strange, insane memories.
It's funny to look back. I didn't exactly know where Liberty was, and believe me, we weren't paying attention to directions while on the bus. I remember it took around four hours to get there, but it wasn't until later that I realized Liberty is a suburb of Kansas City. As far as I knew, it could have been anywhere in the state. Funny how things register.
I always roomed with Hammertime and the Hoffmeister (aka my twin sister), and we had a few different fourths throughout the years. We never slept, instead opting usually to run across the highway to some sort of grocery store and buy tons of crap. One year in particular we decided to dye our hair with kool-aid (it really works), so we mixed it up with water in the little motel plastic cups and dipped our hair in it. Someone came to the door during this process (we were loud and it was late), so we freaked out, thinking it was Coach Smith. A couple of us hid under the bed, and the Hoffmeister hid in the shower, with the curtain pulled. Turns out it was a false alarm as no one was there, but we knew before the Hoffmeister, so the funniest thing in the world at that time was opening the curtain and seeing her standing there holding her hair in a cup of kool-aid. Ah, good times. I think that time we poured the leftover sugar all over some cars. I broke into the bus another time. Oh to be a teenager again.
Anyway, there is a point to this story. We raced against girls from Kickapoo High School each year. Us being sheltered west county kids, we had no idea where Kickapoo was, or that it was even an Indian name, and never having heard it before (and being dumb teenagers) we thought it was hilarious. Kickapoo. One year, while lining up at the starting line at Liberty (trying to stay upright after a night of no sleep), we were put next to the Kickapoo girls. One of us looked over and the entire team, in their uniforms (short shorts and gross jersey tank tops - theirs were yellow and white), was peeing themselves. Literally. We were horrified. We later thought maybe it was to intimidate us (which worked) (which was dumb because none of us cared how we did in that race), but still. Letting go in your uniform? That's just wrong.
I thought about this when Q and I were driving back from the cabin. I've told him this story before, and every time Kickapoo comes up, so does the story. I think he just can't believe it. But we saw them do that more than once, so I'm completely sure that's what they did. Not only did they pee themselves, but then ran in those pee-soaked clothes for over 3 miles. It wasn't even some sort of a qualifying race, just some invitational. So not worth it, folks. I bet pee-induced chafing is a bitch.
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